


Chocolate, Caramel, and Zombies (Of a Metaphorical Sense)

by TextReciprocation



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fluff, I am in deep denial my friends, M/M, literally just self-indulgent fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 09:23:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3891043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TextReciprocation/pseuds/TextReciprocation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel approached the counter and looked at the menu contemplatively. The barista spun around to face him, eyes bright and hair untidy. He was roughly Castiel's height and build, with sandy hair and lightly tanned skin. Castiel's breath caught at the sight of him, but he bit his tongue, chastising himself.</p><p>Cute baristas were rarely gay and always taken. Castiel knew this. Fate, as it happened, was a cruel mistress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chocolate, Caramel, and Zombies (Of a Metaphorical Sense)

**Author's Note:**

> My sincerest apologies to all the baristas and college students of the world. 
> 
> I'm trying to get back into posting fanfiction. To do this, I need to build my confidence. To build my confidence, I apparently need to write terrible, self indulgent Coffee Shop AUs at six in the morning. This has not been beta'd or even proof read. Let me live.
> 
> Feel free to message me on tumblr! My username (or URL, I should say) is textreciprocation there as well.

 

 

Castiel's bones ached, and his eyes felt heavy and sore. His eyelids wanted to slip shut so desperately that keeping them open was a battle, and Castiel was losing. 

The word 'tired' could not begin to describe Castiel's situation. He had surpassed 'tired' six hours, five cups of horrific sludge-coffee, and four essays ago.

Castiel was _miserable._

On the bright side, he was almost finished. _One more essay_ , Castiel thought. _And the required reading. Then I'll be done for the weekend, and I'll go to class Monday morning, and I'll turn everything in, and then I will be able to sleep for two days straight._

He stared at his computer. He looked pathetic, his eyes drooping and sad. He willed his eyes not to droop shut, willed them to stay open just an hour or four longer.

He couldn't do it. He just couldn't. Unfortunately, he didn't have a _choice._

With a groan he got up from his desk and grabbed his hoodie. Coffee. He deserved coffee. Real coffee, from a real coffee shop, made by a person who hadn't been awake for forty-eight hours. He would take his laptop to the nearest coffee shop, and he'd buy himself an overpriced latte, and he'd finish that last goddamn essay.

Easy. It would be easy.

He packed his laptop into his backpack, grabbed his phone, and left his room.

Castiel hadn't actually gone anywhere other than the school and his co-op since he'd started college. Considering he had only been there a few weeks, that fact wasn't too pathetic.

He'd honestly planned on going out and making friends. He was an introvert, sure, but he wasn't a shut-in. He liked people well enough, and he certainly knew how to deal with them. He'd been well-liked enough in high school. He'd even been the president of a few clubs.

He had intended on hanging out with the people in his co-op, maybe going to a few parties. His Brit-Lit professor, unfortunately, had other ideas.

With a heavy sigh, he marched into the outdoors. He'd scoped out the nearest cafe during student orientation, but he hadn't gone in. It wasn't far, really, maybe a ten minute walk, and Castiel could certainly do to stretch his legs. 

By the time he reached the cafe, Castiel was feeling a little better. The place was small and silent, and at 7AM on a Sunday morning, there were only a few patrons there to enjoy the peace and quiet. Most of them seemed to be leeching off the Wi-fi, their phones, tablets, and laptops obscuring their faces.

Castiel approached the counter and looked at the menu contemplatively. The barista spun around to face him, eyes bright and hair untidy. He was roughly Castiel's height and build, with sandy hair and lightly tanned skin. Castiel's breath caught at the sight of him, but he bit his tongue, chastising himself.

Cute baristas were rarely gay and always taken. Castiel knew this. Fate, as it happened, was a cruel mistress.

"I would like a caramel macchiato," Castiel said, almost wincing at the grating sound of his voice. "And a muffin."

The barista gave him a once-over. "You sure you don't need, like, a quadruple shot of espresso or something?" Castiel sighed.

"I don't think that'd be very good for my heart," Castiel said. "As much as I might pray for the sweet release of death, I would like to be able to turn in my coursework tomorrow."

The barista laughed, his eyes sparkling. They were green, Castiel couldn't help but notice. He stopped his internal monologue before he could call them beautiful.

"I hear you, man. Any preference on the muffin?"

Castiel shrugged. "I don't really like bananas."

"All right," he said, tapping away on cash register. "Caramel macchiato and a non-banana muffin for the zombie-boy. That'll be six forty nine."

Castiel handed him a ten. "Keep the change, please."

"Thanks, man. Now go sit down before you collapse. I'll bring you your caffeine fix when it's ready." The barista smiled at him, and Castiel looked down to catch a glimpse of his name-tag. He smiled.

"Thank you, Dean."

Dean grinned at him, and Castiel went to sit at a table by the window.

Human interaction felt good. It helped, of course, that the human in question was _beautiful as hell_. Dean was probably straight and definitely out of Castiel's league, but Castiel couldn't help it. He watched Dean move behind the counter, lean arms moving with practiced ease around the equipment. Castiel stared unabashedly, looking away only when in danger of being caught.

_It's amazing_ , Castiel thought, _what two days without sleep will do to your inhibitions._

Castiel set up his laptop and checked his phone out of habit. There were, unsurprisingly, no notifications of any sort.

"Here you go," Dean said, setting down a mug and a plate full of muffin. "Pumpkin chocolate chip. My personal favorite," he said with a smile. He sat down across from Castiel and stared at him expectantly.

Castiel raised an eyebrow. He took the muffin, appraising it by its appearance. It was a bit orange, and speckled, and obviously filled with chocolate. Castiel took a bite and nearly moaned.

"This is an amazing muffin," he said after a moment. "This is truly," he took another bite, "an amazing muffin."

Dean chuckled. "Yup. Told you so. So, zombie-boy," he said, and Castiel thought he sounded a bit nervous, which was strange. "Who are you and why don't you sleep?"

"I am Castiel. I haven't slept because Professor Zachariah Smith is a giant dick who hates me." Dean snorted, and Castiel took a sip of his coffee, relishing in the smooth texture.

"Yeah, I've heard of him. I had Alastair, though, and believe me, he couldn't be too much better."

Castiel nodded. "You go to Hillcrest?"

"Yeah," Dean said. "Sophomore. Mechanical engineering."

"I see," Castiel said, taking another bite out of his muffin. It truly was delicious. He closed his eyes, enjoying the taste. "I'm a freshman. Psych major. Are you sure you shouldn't be behind the desk?" 

Dean shrugged. "Things are slow. Talking to you is way more interesting."

Castiel fought the urge to blush. He lost. Dean only smiled at him.

"So, what have you got left to do?"

Castiel sighed. The weight of his work settled back into his shoulders, and not even another bite of muffin could make him feel better.

"One essay left. Just one. Five paragraphs, which isn't too bad, but I'm a bit of a perfectionist. After that I have twenty pages of reading, and then I can sleep."

"Okay," Dean said, taking in that information. "Do you need any help? It isn't very busy around here on Sundays, and I could use something to do."

Castiel sighed deeply. "There isn't much you _could_ do, Dean. It's an essay."

Dean shrugged, sheepish. "I guess that's true." There was a moment of silence.

"You could... Just hang around and keep me awake? I won't be able to finish my essay if I fall asleep in my muffin."

Dean grinned. "I can do that."

Two hours passed. Dean would tend to the customers as they came and went, coming over to Castiel's table every once in awhile to say something to him. Usually it was something to make Castiel laugh, and it always worked.

Eventually, Castiel finished his essay. All he had to do now was go home, print out his work, and read. Then he could let sleep claim him. _Finally._

When he started to pack away his things, Dean came back over to him, smiling. "Are you done, zombie-boy?" 

Castiel nodded, letting out a relieved sigh. "Yes, I am done. Thank you for your help."

"Eh, it's no problem. I get pretty bored around here anyway." Dean hesitated for a moment, obviously wanting to say something. Eventually, he opened his mouth to speak. "You can, uh, come back any time. I work here part-time when I don't have class."

Castiel stared at Dean. This felt like flirting. This felt like unmistakeable flirting. Even Castiel, as tired as he was and as dense as he tended to be in romantic situations, got the vibe that Dean was flirting with him.

If he'd been in his right mind, he'd have looked for more evidence. He'd have asked pointed questions and scoped out the situation.

Unfortunately, Castiel was absolutely _not_ in his right mind.

"Are you flirting with me?" He tilted his head, looking at Dean inquisitively. Dean flushed slightly underneath his tanned, freckled skin, his lips twitching nervously. Dean's eyes met his, and they were unwavering.

"That depends," Dean said after a moment. "Should I be?"

Castiel smiled, wide and giddy.

"Yes, Dean," he said. "I think you should be."


End file.
